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EDITED  BY  HENRY  SUZZALLO 

PKOFESSOR    OF   THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF    EDUCATION 
TEACHERS   COLLEGE,    COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 


BY 

GEORGE   HERBERT   PALMER 

ALFORD   PROFESSOR   OF   PHILOSOPHY 
HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

BOSTON,  NEW  YORK   AND   CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT,  I90S,  BY  GEORGE  HERBERT  PALMER 
COPYRIGHT,    I9IO,   BY  HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


-  J-^  LTCRARY 

17^1  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNJ 

''--''  SANTA  BARBARA 

P2) 


INTRODUCTION 

On  the  whole  the  American  people  are  sincerely 
and  deeply  appreciative  of  their  schools  and  teachers. 
The  teachers  themselves  are  for  the  most  part  con- 
tented in  their  work,  strenuous  and  baffling  as  it  may 
be.  And  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  shortcomings  of 
teaching  as  a  life,  they  stand  loyally  by  it.  In  spite  of 
moments  of  pessimism,  they  seldom  change  to  an- 
other work,  so  tenacious  are  its  ultimate  attractions. 

But  it  would  be  quite  wrong  to  assume  that  either 
the  public  or  teachers  have  no  just  criticism  to  make 
upon  the  life  and  the  product  of  schools.  The  educa- 
tional ideals,  and  consequently  the  expectations  of 
both,  are  too  high  to  permit  a  smug  satisfaction  with 
things  as  they  are.  The  layman  wants  better  service 
from  teaching.  The  teacher  wishes  a  happier  life  in  his 
work.  They  will  probably  continue  to  demand  these 
till  the  end  of  time,  though  the  schools  grow  con- 
stantly better.  There  is  no  ungratefulness  in  this  at- 
titude; it  is  part  of  the  idealism  that  attaches  to  the 
work  of  schools  and  keeps  them  forever  progressive. 

It  is  for  the  body  of  teachers  to  strive  earnestly  to 
do  their  part  to  achieve  both  these  ends  —  to  increase 
the  social  service  of  their  teaching  and  to  perfect 


iv  INTRODUCTION 

their- joy  in  the  work.  This  is  what  we  mean  when 
we  say  that  we  should  make  of  teaching  both  a  pro- 
fession and  a  fine  art. 

Teaching  will  be  a  profession  when  we  have  learned 
the  need  of  thorough  scholarly  equipment,  and  single- 
minded  devotion  to  our  daily  and  hourly  duties  in 
the  school-room,  under  the  guidance  of  those  larger 
ideals  which  the  world  has  set  up  for  the  protection 
of  its  cherished  values.  Nothing  less  than  expert 
knowledge,  tempered  by  a  spirit  of  reverent  ministry 
to  those  placed  under  our  tuition,  will  ever  make  us 
professional  teachers. 

Teaching  will  be  a  fine  art  when  the  situations  of 
schoolroom  life  are  made  to  call  for  the  best  in  teacher 
and  pupil.  In  such  a  soil  of  noble  motivation  the 
highest  powers  of  human  beings  thrive.  The  teacher 
who  drives  or  is  driven,  who  forces  himself  or  his 
children  through  stated  tasks,  without  any  sense 
of  their  significance,  will  not  find  teaching  congenial. 
He  will  never  know  that  absorption  which  is  the 
essence  of  art.  Half-heartedly  he  will  teach,  his  other, 
more  imperious  impulses  beckoning  him  away  to 
another  life.  And  while  he  stays,  he  will  know  only 
that  pain  of  conflict  which  destroys  the  possibility 
of  happy  work.  To  achieve  real  success,  teaching 
must  be  kept  an  interesting  business,  where  the  free 
impulses  of  children  and  teachers  are  so  used  as  to 
accomplish  useful  things  happily. 


INTRODUCTION  v 

Ideal  teaching,  then,  will  be  at  the  same  time  pro- 
fessional and  artistic,  socially  useful  and  personally 
pleasant.  It  will  always  be  a  goal  which  we  con- 
stantly approach  but  never  reach,  its  approximation 
whetting  our  hunger  after  perfection,  and  giving  us 
the  satisfaction  of  a  thousand  victorious  adjustments 
in  every  school  day.  Such  an  ideal  is  not  for  laggards 
or  the  indifferent.  Only  the  man  of  fine  qualities  can 
enter  the  lists  and  joyously  achieve.  What  these 
qualities  are,  how  they  are  to  be  developed,  and  how 
used,  will  be  told  in  this  volume. 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 


THE   IDEAL  TEACHER 

In  America,  a  land  of  idealism,  the  profession  of 
teaching  has  become  one  of  the  greatest  of  human 
employments.  In  1903-04  half  a  million  teachers 
were  in  charge  of  sixteen  million  pupils.  Stating  the 
same  facts  differently,  we  may  say  that  a  fifth  of  our 
entire  population  is  constantly  at  school;  and  that 
wherever  one  hundred  and  sixty  men,  women,  and 
children  are  gathered,  a  teacher  is  sure  to  be  among 
them. 

But  figures  fail  to  express  the  importance  of  the 
work.  If  each  year  an  equal  number  of  persons 
should  come  in  contact  with  as  many  lawyers,  no 
such  social  consequences  would  follow.  The  touch 
of  the  teacher,  like  that  of  no  other  person,  is  forma- 
tive. Our  young  people  are  for  long  periods  asso- 
ciated with  those  who  are  expected  to  fashion  them 
into  men  and  women  of  an  approved  type.  A  charge 
so  influential  is  committed  to  nobody  else  in  the 
community,  not  even  to  the  ministers;  for  though 
these  have  a  more  searching  aim,  they  are  directly 
occupied  with  it  but  one  day  instead  of  six,  but  one 
hour  instead  of  five.    Accordingly,  as  the  tract  of 


4  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

knowledge  has  widened,  and  the  creative  opportu- 
nities involved  in  conducting  a  young  person  over 
it  have  correspondingly  become  apparent,  the  pro- 
fession of  teaching  has  risen  to  a  notable  height  of 
dignity  and  attractiveness.  It  has  moved  from  a  sub- 
ordinate to  a  central  place  in  social  influence,  and 
now  undertakes  much  of  the  work  which  formerly 
fell  to  the  church.  Each  year  divinity  schools  attract 
fewer  students,  graduate  and  normal  schools  more. 
On  school  and  college  instruction  the  community 
now  bestows  its  choicest  minds,  its  highest  hopes, 
and  its  largest  sums.  During  the  year  1903-04 
the  United  States  spent  for  teaching  not  less  than 
$350,000,000. 

Such  weighty  work  is  ill  adapted  for  amateurs. 
Those  who  take  it  up  for  brief  times  and  to  make 
money  usually  find  it  unsatisfactory.  Success  is 
rare,  the  hours  are  fixed  and  long,  there  is  repe- 
tition and  monotony,  and  the  teacher  passes  his 
days  among  inferiors.  Nor  are  the  pecuniary  gains 
considerable.  There  are  few  prizes,  and  neither  in 
school  nor  in  college  will  a  teacher's  ordinary  in- 
come carry  him  much  above  want.  College  teach- 
ing is  falling  more  and  more  into  the  hands  of 
men  of  independent  means.  The  poor  can  hardly 
afford  to  engage  in  it.  Private  schools,  it  is  true, 
often  show  large  incomes ;  but  they  are  earned  by 
the  proprietors,  not  the  teachers.    On  the  whole. 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  5 

teaching    as    a    trade    is   poor    and    disappointing 
business. 

When,  however,  it  is  entered  as  a  profession,  as 
a  serious  and  difficult  fine  art,  there  are  few  employ- 
ments more  satisfying.  All  over  the  country  thousands 
of  men  and  women  are  following  it  with  a  passion- 
ate devotion  which  takes  little  account  of  the  income 
received.  A  trade  aims  primarily  at  personal  gain; 
a  profession  at  the  exercise  of  powers  beneficial  to 
mankind.  This  prime  aim  of  the  one,  it  is  true, 
often  properly  becomes  a  subordinate  aim  of  the 
other.  Professional  men  may  even  be  said  to  offer 
wares  of  their  own  —  cures,  conversions,  court  vic- 
tories, learning  —  much  as  traders  do,  and  to  receive 
in  return  a  kind  of  reward.  But  the  business  of  the 
lawyer,  doctor,  preacher,  and  teacher  never  squares 
itself  by  equivalent  exchange.  These  men  do  not  give 
so  much  for  so  much.  They  give  in  lump  and  they 
get  in  lump,  without  precise  balance.  The  whole 
notion  of  bargain  is  inapplicable  in  a  sphere  where  the 
gains  of  him  who  serves  and  him  who  is  served  coin- 
cide ;  and  that  is  largely  the  case  with  the  professions. 
Each  of  them  furnishes  its  special  opportunity  for 
the  use  of  powers  which  the  possessor  takes  delight 
in  exercising.  Harvard  College  pays  me  for  doing 
what  I  would  gladly  pay  it  for  allowing  me  to  do. 
No  professional  man,  then,  thinks  of  giving  accord- 
ing to  measure.    Once  engaged,  he  gives  his  best, 


6  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

gives  his  personal  interest,  himself.  His  heart  is  in 
his  work,  and  for  this  no  equivalent  is  possible ;  what 
is  accepted  is  in  the  nature  of  a  fee,  gratuits',  or  con- 
sideration, which  enables  him  who  receives  it  to 
maintain  a  certain  expected  mode  of  life.  The  real 
payment  is  the  work  itself,  this  and  the  chance  to 
join  with  other  members  of  the  profession  in  guid- 
ing and  enlarging  tne  sphere  of  its  activities. 

The  idea,  sometimes  advanced,  that  the  profes- 
sions might  be  ennobled  bv  paying  them  powerfully, 
is  fantastic.  Their  great  attraction  is  their  removal 
from  sordid  aims.  More  money  should  certainly 
be  spent  on  several  of  them.  Their  members  should 
be  better  protected  against  want,  anxiety,  neglect, 
and  bad  conditions  of  labor.  To  do  his  best  work  one 
needs  not  merely  to  live,  but  to  live  well.  Yet  in  that 
increase  of  salaries  which  is  urgently  needed,  care 
should  be  used  not  to  allow  the  attention  of  the  pro- 
fessional man  to  be  diverted  from  what  is  impor- 
tant, —  the  outgo  of  his  work,  —  and  become  fixed 
on  what  is  merely  incidental,  —  his  income.  When 
a  professor  in  one  of  our  large  universities,  angered 
by  the  refusal  of  the  president  to  raise  his  salary  on 
his  being  called  elsewhere,  impatiently  exclaimed, 
"]SIr.  President,  you  are  banking  on  the  devotion  of 
us  teachers,  knowing  that  we  do  not  willingly  leave 
this  place,"  the  president  properly  replied,  "Cer- 
tainly, and  no  college  can  be  managed  on  any  other 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  7 

principle."  Professional  men  are  not  so  silly  as  to 
despise  money;  but  after  all,  it  is  interest  in  their 
work,  and  not  the  thought  of  salary,  which  predomi- 
nantly holds  them. 

Accordingly  in  this  paper  I  address  those  only 
who  are  drawn  to  teaching  by  the  love  of  it,  who  re- 
gard it  as  the  most  vital  of  the  Fine  Arts,  who  intend 
to  give  their  lives  to  mastering  its  subtleties,  and 
who  are  ready  to  meet  some  hardships  and  to  put 
up  with  moderate  fare  if  they  may  win  its  rich  op- 
portunities. 

But  supposing  such  a  temper,  what  special  quali- 
fications will  the  work  require  ?  The  question  asked 
thus  broadly  admits  no  precise  answer ;  for  in  reality 
there  is  no  human  excellence  which  is  not  useful  for 
us  teachers.  No  good  quality  can  be  thought  of 
which  we  can  afiFord  to  drop.  Some  day  we  shall 
discover  a  disturbing  vacuum  in  the  spot  which  it 
left.  But  I  propose  a  more  limited  problem:  what 
are  those  characteristics  of  the  teacher  without  which 
he  must  fail,  and  what  those  which,  once  his,  will 
almost  certainly  insure  him  success  ?  Are  there  any 
such  essentials,  and  how  many  ?  On  this  matter  I 
have  pondered  long;  for,  teaching  thirty-nine  years 
in  Harvard  College,  I  have  each  year  found  out  a 
little  more  fully  my  own  incompetence.  I  have  thus 
been  forced  to  ask  myself  the  double  question, 
through  what  lacks  do  I  fail,  and  in  what  direction 


8  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

lie  the  roots  of  my  small  successes  ?  Of  late  years 
I  think  I  have  hit  on  these  roots  of  success  and 
have  come  to  believe  that  there  are  four  of  them, 
—  four  characteristics  which  every  teacher  must 
possess.  Of  course  he  may  possess  as  many  more 
as  he  likes,  —  indeed,  the  more  the  better.  But 
these  four  appear  fundamental.  I  vi^ill  briefly  name 
them. 

First,  a  teacher  must  have  an  aptitude  for  vica- 
riousness;  and  second,  an  already  accumulated 
wealth ;  and  third,  an  ability  to  invigorate  life  through 
knowledge;  and  fourth,  a  readiness  to  be  forgotten. 
Having  these,  any  teacher  is  secure.  Lacking  them, 
lacking  even  one,  he  is  liable  to  serious  failure.  But 
as  here  stated  they  have  a  curiously  cabalistic  sound 
and  show  little  relation  to  the  needs  of  any  profession. 
They  have  been  stated  with  too  much  condensation, 
and  have  become  unintelligible  through  being  too 
exact.  Let  me  repair  the  error  by  successively  ex- 
panding them."^ 

The  teacher's  art  takes  its  rise  in  what  I  call  an 
aptitude  for  vicariousness.  As  year  by  year  my  col- 
lege bo^'s  prepare  to  go  forth  into  life,  some  laggard 
is  sure  to  come  to  me  and  say,  "I  want  a  little  advice. 
Most  of  my  classmates  have  their  minds  made  up 
about  what  they  are  going  to  do.  I  am  still  uncer- 
tain. I  rather  incline  to  be  a  teacher,  because  I  am 
fond  of  books  and  suspect  that  in  any  other  profession 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  9 

I  can  give  them  but  little  time.  Business  men  do  not 
read.  Lawyers  only  consult  books.  And  I  am  by 
no  means  sure  that  ministers  have  read  all  the  books 
they  quote.  On  the  whole  it  seems  safest  to  choose 
a  profession  in  which  books  will  be  my  daily  com- 
panions. So  I  turn  toward  teaching.  But  before 
settling  the  matter  I  thought  I  would  ask  how  you 
regard  the  profession."  "A  noble  profession,"  I 
answer,"  but  quite  unfit  for  you.  I  would  advise  you 
to  become  a  lawyer,  a  car  conductor,  or  something 
equally  harmless.  Do  not  turn  to  anything  so  peril- 
ous as  teaching.  You  would  ruin  both  it  and  your- 
self; for  you  are  looking  in  exactly  the  ^VTong 
direction." 

Such  an  inquirer  is  under  a  common  misconcep- 
tion. The  teacher's  task  is  not  primarily  the  acqui- 
sition of  knowledge,  but  the  impartation  of  it,  —  an 
entirely  different  matter.  We  teachers  are  forever 
taking  thoughts  out  of  our  minds  and  putting  them 
elsewhere.  So  long  as  we  are  content  to  keep  them 
in  our  possession,  we  are  not  teachers  at  all.  One 
who  is  interested  in  laying  hold  on  wisdom  is  likely 
to  become  a  scholar.  And  while  no  doubt  it  is  well 
for  a  teacher  to  be  a  fair  scholar,  —  I  have  known 
several  such,  —  that  is  not  the  main  thing.  What  con- 
stitutes the  teacher  is  the  passion  to  make  scholars ; 
and  again  and  again  it  happens  that  the  great  scholar 
has  no  such  passion  whatever. 


10  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

But  even  that  passion  is  useless  without  aid  from 
imagination.  At  every  instant  of  the  teacher's  hfe 
he  must  be  controlled  by  this  mighty  power.  Most 
human  beings  are  contented  with  living  one  life 
and  delighted  if  they  can  pass  that  agreeably.  But 
this  is  far  from  enough  for  us  teachers.  We  inces- 
santly go  outside  ourselves  and  enter  into  the  many 
lives  about  us,  —  lives  dull,  dark,  and  unintelligible 
to  any  but  an  eye  like  ours.  And  this  is  imagination, 
the  sympathetic  creation  in  ourselves  of  conditions 
which  belong  to  others.  Our  profession  is  therefore 
a  double-ended  one.  We  inspect  truth  as  it  rises  fresh 
and  interesting  before  our  eager  sight.  But  that  is 
only  the  beginning  of  our  task.  Swiftly  we  then 
seize  the  lines  of  least  intellectual  resistance  in  alien 
minds  and,  with  perpetual  reference  to  these,  fol- 
low our  truth  till  it  is  safely  lodged  beyond  ourselves. 
Each  mind  has  its  peculiar  set  of  frictions.  Those 
of  our  pupils  can  never  be  the  same  as  ours.  We 
have  passed  far  on  and  know  all  about  our  subject. 
For  us  it  wears  an  altogether  different  look  from  that 
which  it  has  for  beginners.  It  is  their  perplexities 
which  we  must  reproduce  and  —  as  if  a  rose  should 
shut  and  be  a  bud  again  —  we  must  reassume  in  our 
developed  and  accustomed  souls  something  of  the 
innocence  of  childhood.  Such  is  the  exquisite  busi- 1 
ness  of  the  teacher,  to  carry  himself  back  with  all  his ' 
wealth  of  knowledge  and  understand  how  his  sub 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  11 

ject  should  appear  to  the  meagre  mind  of  one  glanc- 
ing at  it  for  the  first  time. 

And  what  absurd  blunders  we  make  in  the  process ! 
Becoming  immersed  in  our  own  side  of  the  aflFair, 
we  blind  ourselves  and  readily  attribute  to  our  pupils 
modes  of  thought  which  are  not  in  the  least  theirs. 
I  remember  a  lesson  I  had  on  this  point,  I  who  had 
been  teaching  ethics  half  a  lifetime.  My  nephew, 
five  years  old,  was  fond  of  stories  from  the  Odyssey. 
He  would  creep  into  bed  with  me  in  the  morning  and 
beg  for  them.  One  Sunday,  after  I  had  given  him 
a  pretty  stiff  bit  of  adventure,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
it  was  an  appropriate  day  for  a  moral.  "Ulysses 
was  a  very  brave  man,"  I  remarked.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"and  I  am  very  brave."  I  saw  my  opportunity  and 
seized  it.  "That  is  true,"  said  I.  "You  have  been 
gaining  courage  lately.  You  used  to  cry  easily,  but 
you  don't  do  that  nowadays.  When  you  want  to  cry 
now,  you  think  how  like  a  baby  it  would  be  to  cry, 
or  how  you  would  disturb  mother  and  upset  the 
house;  and  so  you  conclude  not  to  cry."  The  little 
fellow  seemed  hopelessly  puzzled.  He  lay  silent  a 
minute  or  two  and  then  said,  "Well  no,  Uncle,  I 
don't  do  that.  I  just  go  sh-sh-sh,  and  I  don't." 
There  the  moral  crisis  is  stated  in  its  simplicity; 
and  I  had  been  putting  off  on  that  holy  little  nature 
sophistications  borrowed  from  my  own  battered  life. 

But  while  I  am  explaining  the  blunders  caused  by 


12  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

self-engrossment  and  lack  of  imagination,  let  me 
show  what  slight  adjustments  will  sometimes  carry 
us  past  depressing  difficulties.  One  year  when  I  was 
lecturing  on  some  intricate  problems  of  obligation, 
I  began  to  doubt  whether  my  class  was  following 
me,  and  I  determined  that  I  would  make  them  talk. 
So  the  next  day  I  constructed  an  ingenious  ethical 
case  and,  after  stating  it  to  the  class,  I  said,  "Sup- 
posing now  the  state  of  affairs  were  thus  and  thus, 
and  the  interests  of  the  persons  involved  were  such 
and  such,  how  would  you  decide  the  question  of  right, 
—  Mr.  Jones."  Poor  Jones  rose  in  confusion.  "You 
mean,"  he  said,  "if  the  case  were  as  you  have  stated 
it?  Well,  hm,  hm,  hm, — yes,  —  I  don't  think  I  know, 
sir."  And  he  sat  down.  I  called  on  one  and  another 
with  the  same  result.  A  panic  was  upon  them,  and 
all  their  minds  were  alike  empty.  I  went  home  dis- 
gusted, wondering  whether  they  had  comprehended 
anything  I  had  said  during  the  previous  fortnight, 
and  hoping  I  might  never  have  such  a  stupid  lot  of 
students  again.  Suddenly  it  flashed  upon  me  that  it 
was  I  who  was  stupid.  That  is  usually  the  case  when 
a  class  fails ;  it  is  the  teacher's  fault.  The  next  day 
I  went  back  prepared  to  begin  at  the  right  end.  I 
began,  "Oh,  Mr.  Jones."  He  rose,  and  I  proceeded 
to  state  the  situation  as  before.  By  the  time  I  paused 
he  had  collected  his  wits,  had  worked  off  his  super- 
fluous flurry,  and  was  ready  to  give  me  an  admirable 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  IS 

answer.  Indeed  in  a  few  minutes  the  whole  class  was 
engaged  in  an  eager  discussion.  My  previous  error 
had  been  in  not  remembering  that  they,  I,  and  every- 
body, when  suddenly  attacked  with  a  big  question, 
are  not  in  the  best  condition  for  answering.  Occupied 
as  I  was  with  my  end  of  the  story,  the  questioning 
end,  I  had  not  worked  in  that  double-ended  fashion 
which  alone  can  bring  the  teacher  success ;  in  short, 
I  was  deficient  in  vicariousness,  —  in  swiftly  put- 
ting myself  in  the  weak  one's  place  and  bearing  his 
burden. 

Now  it  is  in  this  chief  business  of  the  artistic 
teacher,  to  labor  imaginatively  himself  in  order  to 
diminish  the  labors  of  his  slender  pupil,  that  most 
of  our  failures  occur.  Instead  of  lamenting  the  im- 
perviousness  of  our  pupils,  we  had  better  ask  our- 
selves more  frequently  whether  we  have  neatly  ad- 
justed our  teachings  to  the  conditions  of  their  minds. 
We  have  no  right  to  tumble  out  in  a  mass  whatever 
comes  into  our  heads,  leaving  to  that  feeble  folk  the 
work  of  finding  in  it  what  order  they  may.  Ours 
it  should  be  to  see  that  every  beginning,  middle,  and 
end  of  what  we  say  is  helpfully  shaped  for  readiest 
access  to  those  less  intelligent  and  interested  than  we. 
But  this  is  vicariousness.  Noblesse  oblige.  In  this 
profession  any  one  who  will  be  great  must  be  a 
nimble  servant,  his  head  full  of  others'  needs. 

Some  discouraged  teacher,  glad  to  discover  that 


14  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

his  past  failures  have  been  due  to  the  absence  of 
sympathetic  imagination,  may  resolve  that  he  will 
not  commit  that  blunder  again.  On  going  to  his 
class  to-morrow  he  will  look  out  upon  his  subject 
with  his  pupils'  eyes,  not  with  his  own.  Let  him  at- 
tempt it,  and  his  pupils  will  surely  say  to  one  another, 
"What  is  the  matter  to-day  with  teacher?"  They 
will  get  nothing  from  that  exercise.  No,  what  is 
wanted  is  not  a  resolve,  but  an  aptitude.  The  time 
for  using  vicariousness  is  not  the  time  for  acquiring 
it.  Rather  it  is  the  time  for  dismissing  all  thoughts 
of  it  from  the  mind.  On  entering  the  classroom  we 
should  leave  every  consideration  of  method  outside 
the  door,  and  talk  simply  as  interested  men  and 
women  in  whatever  way  comes  most  natural  to  us. 
But  into  that  nature  vicariousness  should  long  ago 
have  been  wrought.  It  should  be  already  on  hand. 
Fortunate  we  if  our  great-grandmother  supplied  us 
with  it  before  we  were  born.  There  are  persons 
who,  with  all  good  will,  can  never  be  teachers.  They 
are  not  made  in  that  way.  Their  business  it  is  to 
pry  into  knowledge,  to  engage  in  action,  to  make 
money,  or  to  pursue  whatever  other  aim  their  powers 
dictate;  but  they  do  not  readily  think  in  terms  of 
the  other  person.  They  should  not,  then,  be  teach- 
ers. 

The  teacher's  habit  is  well  summed  in  the  Apos- 
tle's rule,  "  Look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things, 


THE   IDEAL  TEACHER  15 

but  every  man  also  "  —  it  is  double  —  "  on  the  things 
of  others."  And  this  habit  should  become  as  nearly 
as  possible  an  instinct.  Until  it  is  rendered  in- 
stinctive and  passes  beyond  conscious  direction,  it 
will  be  of  little  worth.  Let  us  then,  as  we  go  into 
society,  as  we  walk  the  streets,  as  we  sit  at  table, 
practice  altruistic  limberaess  and  learn  to  escape 
from  ourselves.  A  true  teacher  is  always  meditating 
his  work,  disciplining  himself  for  his  profession, 
probing  the  problems  of  his  glorious  art,  and  seeing 
illustration  of  them  everywhere.  In  only  one  place 
is  he  freed  from  such  criticism,  and  that  is  in  his 
classroom.  Here  in  the  moment  of  action  he  lets 
himself  go,  unhampered  by  theory,  using  the  nature 
acquired  elsewhere,  and  uttering  as  simply  as  pos- 
sible the  fulness  of  his  mind  and  heart.  Direct  human 
intercourse  requires  instinctive  aptitudes.  Till  al- 
truistic vicariousness  has  become  our  second  nature, 
we  shall  not  deeply  influence  anybody. 

But  sympathetic  imagination  is  not  all  a  teacher 
needs.  Exclusive  altruism  is  absurd.  On  this  point 
too  I  once  got  instruction  from  the  mouths  of  babes 
and  sucklings.  The  children  of  a  friend  of  mine, 
children  of  six  and  four,  had  just  gone  to  bed.  Their 
mother  overheard  them  talking  when  they  should 
have  been  asleep.  Wondering  what  they  might  need, 
she  stepped  into  the  entry  and  listened.  They  were 
discussing  what  they  were  here  in  the  world  for. 


16  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

That  is  about  the  size  of  problems  commonly  found 
in  infant  minds.  The  little  girl  suggested  that  we  are 
probably  in  the  world  to  help  others.  "Why,  no 
indeed,  Mabel,"  said  her  big  brother, "  for  then  what 
would  others  be  here  for?"  Precisely!  If  anything 
is  only  fit  to  give  away,  it  is  not  fit  for  that.  We  must 
know  and  prize  its  goodness  in  ourselves  before 
generosity  is  even  possible. 

Plainly,  then,  beside  his  aptitude  for  vicariousness, 
our  ideal  teacher  will  need  the  second  qualification 
of  an  already  accumulated  wealth.  These  hungry 
pupils  are  drawing  all  their  nourishment  from  us, 
and  have  we  got  it  to  give  ?  They  will  be  poor,  if  we 
are  poor ;  rich  if  we  are  wealthy.  We  are  their  source 
of  supply.  Every  time  we  cut  ourselves  off  from 
nutrition,  we  enfeeble  them.  And  how  frequently 
devoted  teachers  make  this  mistake !  dedicating 
themselves  so  to  the  immediate  needs  of  those  about 
them  that  they  themselves  grow  thinner  each  year. 
We  all  know  the  "teacher's  face."  It  is  meagre, 
worn,  sacrificial,  anxious,  powerless.  That  is  exactly 
the  opposite  of  what  it  should  be.  The  teacher  should 
be  the  big  bounteous  being  of  the  community.  Other 
people  may  get  along  tolerably  by  holding  whatever 
small  knowledge  comes  their  way.  A  moderate  stock 
will  pretty  well  serve  their  private  turn.  But  that  is 
not  our  case.  Supplying  a  multitude,  we  need  wealth 
sufficient  for  a  multitude.  We  should  then  be  clutch- 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  17 

ing  at  knowledge  on  every  side.  Nothing  must  es- 
cape us.  It  is  a  mistake  to  reject  a  bit  of  truth  because 
it  Hes  outside  our  province.  Some  day  we  shall  need 
it.  All  knowledge  is  our  province. 

In  preparing  a  lecture  I  find  I  always  have  to 
work  hardest  on  the  things  I  do  not  say.  The  things 
I  am  sure  to  say  I  can  easily  get  up.  They  are 
obvious  and  generally  accessible.  But  they,  I  find, 
are  not  enough.  I  must  have  a  broad  background 
of  knowledge  which  does  not  appear  in  speech.  I 
have  to  go  over  my  entire  subject  and  see  how  the 
things  I  am  to  say  look  in  their  various  relations, 
tracing  out  connections  which  I  shall  not  present 
to  my  class.  One  might  ask  what  is  the  use  of  this  ? 
Why  prepare  more  matter  than  can  be  used  ?  Every 
successful  teacher  knows.  I  cannot  teach  right  up 
to  the  edge  of  my  knowledge  without  a  fear  of  falling 
ofif.  My  pupils  discover  this  fear,  and  my  words 
are  ineffective.  They  feel  the  influence  of  what  I 
do  not  say.  One  cannot  precisely  explain  it;  but 
when  I  move  freely  across  my  subject  as  if  it  mat- 
tered little  on  what  part  of  it  I  rest,  they  get  a  sense 
of  assured  power  which  is  compulsive  and  fructify- 
ing. The  subject  acquires  consequence,  their  minds 
swell,  and  they  are  eager  to  enter  regions  of  which 
they  had  not  previously  thought. 

Even,  then,  to  teach  a  small  thing  well  we  must 
be  large.    I  asked  a  teacher  what  her  subject  was, 


18  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

and  she  answered,  "Arithmetic  in  the  third  grade." 
But  where  is  the  third  grade  found  ?  In  knowledge, 
or  in  the  schools?  Unhappily  it  is  in  the  schools. 
But  if  one  would  be  a  teacher  of  arithmetic,  it  must 
be  arithmetic  she  teaches  and  not  third  grade  at  all. 
We  cannot  accept  these  artificial  bounds  without 
damage.  Instead  of  accumulated  wealth  they  will 
bring  us  accumulated  poverty,  and  increase  it  every 
day.  Years  ago  at  Harvard  we  began  to  discuss  the 
establishment  of  a  Graduate  School ;  and  I,  a  young 
instructor,  steadily  voted  against  it.  My  thought  was 
this:  Harvard  College,  in  spite  of  what  the  pub- 
lic imagines,  is  a  place  of  slender  resources.  Our 
means  are  inadequate  for  teaching  even  under- 
graduates. But  graduate  instruction  is  vastly  more 
expensive ;  courses  composed  of  half  a  dozen  students 
take  the  time  of  the  ablest  professors.  I  thought 
we  could  not  afford  this.  \Miy  not  leave  graduate 
instruction  to  a  university  which  gives  itself  entirely 
to  that  task  ?  Would  it  not  be  wiser  to  spend  ourselves 
on  the  lower  ranges  of  learning,  covering  these  ade- 
quately, than  to  try  to  spread  ourselves  over  the  en- 
tire field  ? 

Doubting  so,  I  for  some  time  opposed  the  coming 
of  a  Graduate  School.  But  a  luminous  remark  of 
our  great  President  showed  me  the  error  of  my 
ways.  In  the  course  of  debate  he  said  one  even- 
ing,  "It   is  not   primarily  for  the  graduates  that 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  19 

I  care  for  this  school ;  it  is  for  the  undergraduates. 
We  shall  never  get  good  teaching  here  so  long  as  our 
instructors  set  a  limit  to  their  subjects.  When  they 
are  called  on  to  follow  these  throughout,  tracing 
them  far  off  toward  the  unknown,  they  may  become 
good  teachers;  but  not  before." 

I  went  home  meditating.  I  saw  that  the  President 
was  right,  and  that  I  was  myself  in  danger  of  the 
stagnation  he  deprecated.  I  changed  my  vote,  as 
did  others.  The  Graduate  School  was  established; 
and  of  all  the  influences  which  have  contributed  to 
raise  the  standard  of  scholarship  at  Harvard,  both 
for  teachers  and  taught,  that  graduate  work  seems 
to  me  the  greatest.  Every  professor  now  must  be 
the  master  of  a  field  of  knowledge,  and  not  of  a  few 
paths  running  through  it. 

But  the  ideal  teacher  will  accumulate  wealth, 
not  merely  for  his  pupils'  sake,  but  for  his  own. 
To  be  a  great  teacher  one  must  be  a  great  personality, 
and  without  ardent  and  individual  tastes  the  roots 
of  our  being  are  not  fed.  For  developing  personal 
power  it  is  well,  therefore,  for  each  teacher  to  culti- 
vate interests  unconnected  with  his  official  work.  Let 
the  mathematician  turn  to  the  English  poets,  the 
teacher  of  classics  to  the  study  of  birds  and  flowers, 
and  each  will  gain  a  lightness,  a  freedom  from 
exhaustion,  a  mental  hospitality,  which  can  only 
be  acquired  in  some  disinterested  pursuit.   Such  a 


20  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

private  subject  becomes  doubly  dear  because  it  is 
just  our  own.  We  pursue  it  as  we  will ;  we  let  it  call 
out  our  irresponsible  thoughts ;  and  from  it  we  ordi- 
narily carry  off  a  note  of  distinction  lacking  in  those 
whose  lives  are  too  tightly  organized. 

To  this  second  qualification  of  the  teacher,  how- 
ever, I  have  been  obliged  to  prefix  a  condition  simi- 
lar to  that  which  was  added  to  the  first.  We  need  not 
merely  wealth,  but  an  already  accumulated  wealth. 
At  the  moment  when  wealth  is  wanted  it  cannot  be 
acquired.  It  should  have  been  gathered  and  stored 
before  the  occasion  arose.  WTiat  is  more  pitiable 
than  w^hen  a  person  who  desires  to  be  a  benefactor 
looks  in  his  chest  and  finds  it  empty .''  Special  know- 
ledge is  wanted,  or  trained  insight,  or  professional 
skill,  or  sound  practical  judgment;  and  the  teacher 
W'ho  is  called  on  has  gone  through  no  such  discipline 
as  assures  these  resources.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  women  are  more  liable  to  this  sort  of  bankruptcy 
than  men.  Their  sex  is  more  sympathetic  than  ours 
and  they  spend  more  hastily.  They  will  drop  what 
they  are  doing  and  run  if  a  baby  cries.  Excellence 
requires  a  certain  hardihood  of  heart,  while  quick 
responsiveness  is  destructive  of  the  larger  giving. 
He  who  would  be  greatly  generous  must  train  him- 
self long  and  tenaciously,  without  much  attention 
to  momentary  calls.  The  plan  of  the  Great  Teacher, 
by  which  he  took  thirty  years  for  acquisition  and 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  21 

three  for  bestowal,  is  not  unwise,  provided  that  we 
too  can  say,  "  For  their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself." 

But  the  two  qualifications  of  the  teacher  already 
named  will  not  alone  suffice.  I  have  known  persons 
who  were  sympathetically  imaginative,  and  who 
could  not  be  denied  to  possess  large  intellectual 
wealth,  who  still  failed  as  teachers.  One  needs  a  third 
something,  the  power  to  invigorate  life  through  learn- 
ing. We  do  not  always  notice  how  knowledge  nat- 
urally buffets.  It  is  offensive  stuff,  and  makes  young 
and  wholesome  minds  rebel.  And  well  it  may;  for 
when  we  learn  anything,  we  are  obliged  to  break  up 
the  world,  inspect  it  piecemeal,  and  let  our  minds 
seize  it  bit  by  bit.  Now  about  a  fragment  there  is 
always  something  repulsive.  Any  one  who  is  nor- 
mally constituted  must  draw  back  in  horror,  feeling 
that  what  is  brought  him  has  little  to  do  with  the 
beautiful  world  he  has  known.  Where  was  there 
ever  a  healthy  child  who  did  not  hate  the  multipli- 
cation table?  A  boy  who  did  not  detest  such  ab- 
stractions as  seven  times  eight  would  hardly  be  worth 
educating.  By  no  ingenuity  can  we  relieve  knowledge 
of  this  unfortunate  peculiarity.  It  must  be  taken  in 
disjointed  portions.  That  is  the  way  attention  is 
made.  In  consequence  each  of  us  must  be  to  some 
extent  a  specialist,  devoting  himself  to  certain  sides 
of  the  world  and  neglecting  others  quite  as  important. 
These  are  the  conditions  under  which  we  imperfect 


22  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

creatures  work.  Our  sight  is  not  world-wide.  When 
we  give  our  attention  to  one  object,  by  that  very 
act  we  withdraw  it  from  others.  In  this  way  our 
children  naust  learn  and  have  their  expansive  natures 
subdued  to  pedagogic  exigencies. 

Because  this  belittlement  through  the  method  of 
approach  is  inevitable,  it  is  all-important  that  the 
teacher  should  possess  a  supplemental  dignity,  re- 
placing the  oppressive  sense  of  pettiness  with  stimu- 
lating intimations  of  high  things  in  store.  Partly 
on  this  account  a  book  is  an  imperfect  instructor. 
Truth  there,  being  impersonal,  seems  untrue,  ab- 
stract, and  insignificant.  It  needs  to  shine  through 
a  human  being  before  it  can  exert  its  vital  force  on  a 
young  student.  Quite  as  much  for  vital  transmission 
as  for  intellectual  elucidation,  is  a  teacher  employed. 
His  consolidated  character  exhibits  the  gains  which 
come  from  study.  He  need  not  point  them  out.  If 
he  is  a  scholar,  there  will  appear  in  him  an  august- 
ness,  accuracy,  fulness  of  knowledge,  a  buoyant 
enthusiasm  even  in  drudgery,  and  an  unshakable 
confidence  that  others  must  soon  see  and  enjoy  what 
has  enriched  himself;  and  all  this  will  quickly  con- 
vey itself  to  his  students  and  create  attention  in  his 
classroom.  Such  kindling  of  interest  is  the  great 
function  of  the  teacher.  People  sometimes  say,  "I 
should  like  to  teach  if  only  pupils  cared  to  learn." 
But  then  there  would  be  little  need  of  teaching. 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  83 

Boys  who  have  made  up  their  minds  that  knowledge 
is  worth  while  are  pretty  sure  to  get  it,  without  regard 
to  teachers.  Our  chief  concern  is  with  those  who  are 
unawakened.  In  the  Sistine  Chapel  Michael  Angelo 
has  depicted  the  Almighty  moving  in  clouds  over 
the  rugged  earth  where  lies  the  newly  created  Adam, 
hardly  aware  of  himself.  The  tips  of  the  fingers 
touch,  the  Lord's  and  Adam's,  and  the  huge  frame 
loses  its  inertness  and  rears  itself  into  action.  Such 
may  be  the  electrifying  touch  of  the  teacher. 

But  it  must  be  confessed  that  not  infrequently, 
instead  of  invigorating  life  through  knowledge,  we 
teachers  reduce  our  classes  to  complete  passivity. 
The  blunder  is  not  altogether  ours,  but  is  suggested 
by  certain  characteristics  of  knowledge  itself :  for 
how  can  a  learner  begin  without  submitting  his 
mind,  accepting  facts,  listening  to  authority,  in 
short  becoming  obedient?  He  is  called  on  to  put 
aside  his  own  notions  and  take  what  truth  dictates. 
I  have  said  that  knowledge  buffets,  forcing  us  into 
an  almost  slavish  attitude,  and  that  this  is  resented 
by  vigorous  natures.  In  almost  every  school  some 
of  the  most  original,  aggressive,  and  independent 
boys  stand  low  in  their  classes,  while  at  the  top 
stand  "grinds,"  —  objects  of  horror  to  all  healthy 
souls. 

Now  it  is  the  teacher's  business  to  see  that  the  on- 
slaught of  knowledge  does  not  enfeeble.  Between  the 


24  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

two  sides  of  knowledge,  information  and  intelligence, 
he  is  to  keep  the  balance  true.  While  a  boy  is  taking 
in  facts,  facts  not  allowed  to  be  twisted  by  any  fancy 
or  carelessness,  he  is  all  the  time  to  be  made  to 
feel  that  these  facts  offer  him  a  field  for  critical 
and  constructive  action.  If  they  leave  him  inactive, 
docile,  and  plodding,  there  is  something  wrong  with 
the  teaching.  Facts  are  pernicious  when  they  subju- 
gate and  do  not  quicken  the  mind  that  grasps  them. 
Education  should  unfold  us  and  truth  together ;  and 
to  enable  it  to  do  so  the  learner  must  never  be  allowed 
to  sink  into  a  mere  recipient.  He  should  be  called 
on  to  think,  to  observe,  to  form  his  own  judgments, 
even  at  the  risk  of  error  and  crudity.  Temporary 
one-sidedness  and  extravagance  is  not  too  high  a 
price  to  pay  for  originality.  And  this  development 
of  personal  vigor,  emphasized  in  our  day  by  the  elec- 
tive system  and  independent  research,  is  the  great 
aim  of  education.  It  should  affect  the  lower  ranges 
of  study  as  truly  as  the  higher.  The  mere  contempla- 
tion of  truth  is  always  a  deadening  affair.  Many  a 
dull  class  in  school  and  college  would  come  to  life 
if  simply  given  something  to  do.  Until  the  mind 
reacts  for  itself  on  what  it  receives,  its  education  is 
hardly  begun. 

The  teacher  who  leads  it  so  to  react  may  be  truly 
called  "productive,"  productive  of  human  beings. 
The  noble  word  has  recently  become  Germanized 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  25 

and  corrupted,  and  is  now  hardly  more  than  a  piece 
of  educational  slang.  According  to  the  judgments 
of  to-day  a  teacher  may  be  unimaginative,  pedantic, 
dull,  and  may  make  his  students  no  less  so ;  he  will 
still  deserve  a  crown  of  wild  olive  as  a  "  productive  " 
man  if  he  neglects  his  classroom  for  the  printing  press. 
But  this  is  to  put  first  things  second  and  second 
things  first.  He  who  is  original  and  fecund,  and 
knows  how  to  beget  a  similar  spirit  in  his  students, 
will  naturally  wish  to  express  himself  beyond  his 
classroom.  By  snatching  the  fragments  of  time 
which  his  arduous  work  allows,  he  may  accomplish 
much  worthy  writing  and  probably  increase  too  his 
worth  for  his  college,  his  students,  and  himself.  But 
the  business  of  book-making  is,  after  all,  collateral 
with  us  teachers.  Not  for  this  are  we  employed,  de- 
sirable though  it  is  for  showing  the  kind  of  mind  we 
bear.  Many  of  my  most  productive  colleagues  have 
printed  little  or  nothing,  though  they  have  left  a  deep 
mark  on  the  life  and  science  of  our  time.  I  would 
encourage  publication.  It  keeps  the  solitary  student 
healthy,  enables  him  to  find  his  place  among  his 
fellows,  and  more  distinctly  to  estimate  the  contri- 
butions he  is  making  to  his  subject.  But  let  him  never 
neglect  his  proper  work  for  that  which  must  always 
have  in  it  an  element  of  advertising. 

Too  long  I  have  delayed  the  fourth,  the  disagree- 
able, section  of  my  paper.  Briefly  it  is  this :  a  teacher 


26  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

must  have  a  readiness  to  be  forgotten.  And  what  is 
harder  ?  We  may  be  excellent  persons,  may  be  daily 
doing  kindnesses,  and  yet  not  be  quite  willing  to 
have  those  kindnesses  overlooked.  Many  a  man  is 
ready  to  be  generous,  if  by  it  he  can  win  praise.  The 
love  of  praise,  —  it  is  almost  our  last  infirmity;  but 
there  is  no  more  baffling  infirmity  for  the  teacher. 
If  praise  and  recognition  are  dear  to  him,  he  may 
as  well  stop  work.  Dear  to  him  perhaps  they  must 
be,  as  a  human  being;  but  as  a  teacher,  he  is  called 
on  to  rise  above  ordinary  human  conditions.  Who- 
ever has  followed  me  thus  far  will  perceive  the  rea- 
son. I  have  shown  that  a  teacher  does  not  live  for 
himself,  but  for  his  pupil  and  for  the  truth  which  he 
imparts.  His  aim  is  to  be  a  colorless  medium  through 
which  that  truth  may  shine  on  opening  minds.  How 
can  he  be  this  if  he  is  continually  interposing  him- 
self and  saying,  "  Instead  of  looking  at  the  truth,  my 
children,  look  at  me  and  see  how  skilfully  I  do  my 
work.  I  thought  I  taught  you  admirably  to-day.  I 
hope  you  thought  so  too."  No,  the  teacher  must 
keep  himself  entirely  out  of  the  way,  fixing  young 
attention  on  the  proffered  knowledge  and  not  on 
anything  so  small  as  the  one  who  brings  it.  Only 
so  can  he  be  vicarious,  whole-hearted  in  invigorating 
the  lives  committed  to  his  charge. 

Moreover,  any  other  course  is  futile.   We  cannot 
tell  whether  those  whom  we  are  teaching  have  taken 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  27 

our  best  points  or  not.  Those  best  points,  what  are 
they?  We  shall  count  them  one  thing,  our  pupils 
another.  We  gather  what  seems  to  us  of  consequence 
and  pour  it  out  upon  our  classes.  But  if  their  minds 
are  not  fitted  to  receive  it,  the  little  creatures  have 
excellent  protective  arrangements  which  they  draw 
down,  and  all  we  pour  is  simply  shed  as  if  nothing 
had  fallen;  while  again  we  say  something  so  slight 
that  we  hardly  notice  it,  but,  happening  to  be  just 
the  nutritive  element  which  that  small  life  then 
needs,  it  is  caught  up  and  turned  into  human  fibre. 
We  cannot  tell.  We  work  in  the  dark.  Out  upon 
the  waters  our  bread  is  cast,  and  if  we  are  wise  we 
do  not  attempt  to  trace  its  return. 

On  this  point  I  received  capital  instruction  from 
one  of  my  pupils.  In  teaching  a  course  on  English 
Empiricism  I  undertook  a  line  of  exposition  which 
I  knew  was  abstruse.  Indeed,  I  doubted  if  many 
of  the  class  could  follow ;  but  there  on  the  front  seat 
sat  one  whose  bright  eyes  were  ever  upon  me.  It 
seemed  worth  while  to  teach  my  three  or  four  best 
men,  that  man  in  particular.  By  the  end  of  the  term 
there  were  many  grumblings.  My  class  did  not  get 
much  out  of  me  that  year.  They  graduated,  and  a 
couple  of  years  later  this  young  fellow  appeared  at 
my  door  to  say  that  he  could  not  pass  through  Cam- 
bridge without  thanking  me  for  his  work  on  Locke, 
Berkeley,  and  Hume.    Pleased  to  be  assured  that 


28  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

my  questionable  methods  were  justified,  and  unwill- 
ing to  drop  a  subject  so  agreeable,  I  asked  if  he 
could  tell  precisely  where  the  value  of  the  course  lay. 
"  Certainly,"  he  answered.  "  It  all  centred  in  a  single 
remark  of  Locke's.  Locke  said  we  ought  to  have 
clear  and  distinct  ideas.  I  don't  think  I  got  anything 
else  out  of  the  course." 

Well,  at  first  I  Avas  inclined  to  think  the  fellow 
foolish,  so  to  mistake  a  bit  of  commonplace  for  gos- 
pel truth.  Why  did  he  not  listen  to  some  of  the  pro- 
found things  I  was  saying?  But  on  reflection  I  saw 
that  he  was  right  and  I  wrong.  That  trivial  saying 
had  come  to  him  at  a  critical  moment  as  a  word  of 
power;  while  the  deep  matters  which  interested  me, 
and  which  I  had  been  offering  him  so  confidently 
day  by  day,  being  unsuited  to  him,  had  passed  him 
by.   He  had  not  heard  them. 

To  such  proper  unthankfulness  we  teachers  must 
accustom  ourselves.  We  cannot  tell  what  are  our 
good  deeds,  and  shall  only  plague  ourselves  and 
hinder  our  classes  if  we  try  to  find  out.  Let  us  dis- 
play our  subjects  as  lucidly  as  possible,  allow  our 
pupils  considerable  license  in  apprehension,  and  be 
content  ourselves  to  escape  observation.  But  though 
what  we  do  remains  unknown,  its  results  often  awake 
deep  affection.  Few  in  the  community  receive  love 
more  abundantly  than  we.  Wherever  we  go,  we 
meet  a  smiling  face.    Throughout  the  world,  by 


THE  IDEAL  TEACHER  29 

some  good  fortune,  the  period  of  learning  is  the 
period  of  romance.  In  those  halcyon  days  of  our 
boys  and  girls  we  have  a  share,  and  the  golden  lights 
which  flood  the  opening  years  are  reflected  on  us. 
Though  our  pupils  cannot  follow  our  efforts  in  their 
behalf,  and  indeed  ought  not,  —  it  being  our  art  to 
conceal  our  art,  —  yet  they  perceive  that  in  the  years 
when  their  happy  expansion  occurred  we  were  their 
guides.  To  us,  therefore,  their  blind  affections  cling 
as  to  few  beside  their  parents.  It  is  better  to  be  loved 
than  to  be  understood. 

Perhaps  some  readers  of  this  paper  will  begin  to 
suspect  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  a  good  teacher. 
Certainly  it  is.  Each  of  the  four  qualifications  I  have 
named  is  endless.  Not  one  of  them  can  be  fully  at- 
tained. We  can  always  be  more  imaginative,  wealthy, 
stimulating,  disinterested.  Each  year  we  creep  a 
little  nearer  to  our  goal,  only  to  find  that  a  finished 
teacher  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Our  reach  will 
forever  exceed  our  grasp.  Yet  what  a  delight  in 
approximation!  Even  in  our  failures  there  is  com- 
fort, when  we  see  that  they  are  generally  due  not  to 
technical  but  to  personal  defects.  We  have  been  put- 
ting ourselves  forward,  or  have  taught  in  mechanical 
rather  than  vital  fashion,  or  have  not  undertaken 
betimes  the  labor  of  preparation,  or  have  declined  the 
trouble  of  vicariousness. 

Evidently,  then,  as  we  become  better  teachers  we 


80  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

also  become  in  some  sort  better  persons.  Our  beau- 
tiful art,  being  so  largely  personal,  will  at  last  be 
seen  to  connect  itself  with  nearly  all  other  employ- 
ments. Every  mother  is  a  teacher.  Every  minister. 
The  lawyer  teaches  the  jury,  the  doctor  his  patient. 
The  clever  salesman  might  almost  be  said  to  use 
teaching  in  dealing  with  his  customer,  and  all  of  us 
to  be  teachers  of  one  another  in  daily  intercourse.  As 
teaching  is  the  most  universal  of  the  professions, 
those  are  fortunate  who  are  able  to  devote  their 
lives  to  its  enriching  study. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


,    OUTLINE 

TEACHING  AS  A  PROFESSION 

1 .  Teaching  a  great  human  employment 3 

2.  Its  central  place  in  social  influence 3 

3.  Teaching  as  a  trade  is  poor 4 

4.  It  is  a  satisfying  profession 5 

5.  Its  great  attractions 6 

6.  The  usefulness  of  all  human  excellences 7 

7.  Four  characteristics  which  every  teacher  must  possess  .     .  8 

THE  APTITUDE   FOR  VICARIOUSNESS 

8.  Teaching  is  not  primarily  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  .     .    8 

9.  It  is  the  impartation  of  knowledge 9 

10.  It  follows  the  lines  of  least  intellectual  resistance  in  alien 

minds 10 

11.  Two  cases  of  defective  vicariousness 11 

12.  The  teacher's  imagination  must  be  full  of  others'  needs   .  13 

13.  Not  a  resolve  but  an  aptitude  is  needed 13 

14.  Teaching  should  pass  beyond  conscious  direction  and  be- 

come instinctive 14 

AN  ALREADY  ACCUMULATED  WEALTH 

15.  Teaching  is  generous  when  it  gives  what  we  prize  in  our- 

selves      15 

16.  The  teacher  should  be  the  bounteous  being  of  the  com- 

munity        16 

17.  He  cannot  teach  right  up  to  the  edge  of  his  knowledge  .     .  17 

18.  He  will  accumulate  wealth  for  his  own  sake         ....  19 

19.  He  will  gather  and  store  knowledge  in  advance  of  the 

teaching  occasion 20 


82  OUTLINE 


THE  POWER  TO  INVIGORATE  LIFE  THROUGH 
LEARNING 

20.  Knowledge  naturally  buffets  the  learner 21 

21.  The  kindling  of   interest   is   the   great   function  of   the 

teacher 22 

22.  The  onslaught  of  knowledge  must  not  enfeeble    ....  23 

23.  The  productive  teacher  must  lead  the  mind  to  react  for 

itself       24 

THE  READINESS  TO   BE  FORGOTTEN 

24.  The  teacher  must  keep  himself  out  of  the  way    ....  25 

25.  He  cannot  know  the  worth  of  his  work 26 

26.  He  should  accustom  himself  to  a  proper  unthankf  ulness    .  28 

THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 

27.  The  qualifications  of  a  good  teacher  cannot  be  fully 

attained 29 

28.  The  teacher  grows  as  a  person  in  approximating  the  quali- 

ties of  the  ideal  teacher 29 


VOLUMES    NOW  READY 

THE  RIVERSIDE  EDUCATIONAL 
MONOGRAPHS 

GENERAL  EDUCATIONAL  THEORY 

Dbwby's  moral  principles  IN  EDUCATION 35 

Eliot's  EDUCATION  FOR  EFFICIENCY 35 

Emerson's  EDUCATION 35 

Fiske's  the  MEANING  OF  INFANCY 35 

Hyde's  THE  TEACHER'S  PHILOSOPHY 35 

Palmer's  THE  IDEAL  TEACHER 35 

Thorndikb's    INDIVIDUALITY 35 

ADMINISTRATION  AND  SUPERVISION  OF  SCHOOLS 

Bloomfield's  VOCATIONAL  GUIDANCE  OF  YOUTH...    .60 
CoBBBRLKv's   CHANGING    CONCEPTIONS  OF  EDUCA- 
TION  35 

Snbddbn's  the   PROBLEM  OF  VOCATIONAL  EDUCA- 
TION  35 

METHODS  OP  TEACHING 

Bbtts's  the  RECITATION 60 

Earhart's  TEACHING  CHILDREN  TO  STUDY 60 

Pauhbr's    ethical   AND    MORAL   INSTRUCTION    IN 

THE  SCHOOLS 35 

Palmer's  SELF-CULTIVATION  IN  ENGLISH 35 

Haliburton's  and  Smith's  TEACHING   POETRY  IN  THE 

GRADES 60 

OTHER  TITLES  TO  BE  ANNOUNCED 


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